


Undisclosed Desires

by braingunk



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angstier than intended, Breifly Mentioned Baby Batcat, Character Study, Distracting The Bad Guy, Episode: s05e07 Ace Chemicals, First Kiss, Guilt, Jeremiah Valeska Loves Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska is a Gay Disaster, Jeremiah is hornier than I intended but have you SEEN ace chemicals, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Manipulative Bruce Wayne, Mild Groping, POV Bruce Wayne, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braingunk/pseuds/braingunk
Summary: Bruce realises that the best way to buy time is not to appeal to Jeremiah's ego, but his feelings. Because only in Gotham is kissing a madman the safest possible way to stop him from blowing up your house.





	Undisclosed Desires

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Jas and Doe for proof reading this for me! This fic is dedicated to the Church of Jeremiah Discord bc I love you guys a lot!!  
> The title is from the Muse song of the same name, which you should listen to bc it's a big Wayleska fave for me - and also just generally a good song.

The penny drops when Jeremiah quietly tells him that the wound of his own lost family still hasn’t healed. He opens his mouth to tell Jeremiah that this isn’t real, that those people aren’t his parents, that he isn’t that child anymore, but closes it again. 

_ What was it like losing your parents that night? _

He recalls standing before Jerome, the living dead, holding his head high and telling him that Bruce Wayne’s death deserved an audience. As he’d predicted (hoped, prayed) Jerome’s ego had bought him the time he’d needed. 

_ Alfred told me such great titbits about your childhood. _

Jeremiah is more alike his brother than he would ever let himself believe – but Bruce finally understands that he doesn’t need to appeal to Jeremiah’s ego, or even his shreds of sanity as he had done before the bridges fell (was he ever sane to begin with? Was it all a lie even before the gas? How long had Bruce been working alongside a madman?)

_ Gotham falls, we rise _ – the ghost of breath against Bruce’s neck –  _ together. _

“My parents’ death was…”  _ The alley, the gun, his father stepping in front of them and then – two loud bangs, blood everywhere. _ “It changed me. It changed everything.” Bruce picks up the sandwich and takes a bite, anything to distract himself. It tastes like cardboard in his mouth. It takes him two attempts to swallow around the lump in his throat. He places the sandwich back on the plate. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” Jeremiah says in a tone that’s meant to be sympathetic but sounds blatantly jealous. “But we can fix that tonight.” Finally, Bruce turns to look at Jeremiah. He’s leaned in close, pale eyes wide as if he doesn’t want to blink and miss anything Bruce might do in the second they’re closed.  

“Jeremiah, please, listen to me,” Bruce says as softly as he can, making a conscious effort to relax his frown. “I am begging you not to do this. As your friend.” Jeremiah inhales a sharp breath, finally tearing his eyes away from Bruce as his eyes dart nervously around. Then his shoulders begin shaking as a quiet giggle fills the silent room. Bruce is vaguely aware of the eyes of his so-called parents, watching yet unseeing. 

“I never thought you were cruel, Bruce,” Jeremiah says, turning to face him again. The smile falls from his face and when he speaks again, he’s shouting. “I offered for you to be my best friend but you didn’t want me!” Gloved hands clench Bruce’s shoulder’s hard enough to bruise, pulling him in close. And then Jeremiah pauses, clearing his throat as he tries to find his composure again. His hands linger as they pull away from Bruce and Bruce knows that this is his chance.

He gently reaches out and grabs Jeremiah’s hand – a hand that’s  _ killed _ people - as it withdraws. His gloved fingers twitch against Bruce’s palm. 

“I’m sorry, Jeremiah. You’re right, I wasn’t a good friend to you.” This, at least, is true. The awkward man with glasses who Bruce had worked alongside late into the night was still in there somewhere, buried under the insanity gas and ghostly eyes. Somewhere inside this man is the friend Bruce failed to save from himself. Jeremiah looks lost. Bruce swallows nervously. This is his one chance to stop this madness. “But it’s not true that I don’t want you.” 

Jeremiah’s twitching hand goes still. 

“You don’t mean that,” he says. He licks his lips nervously. Bruce imitates the gesture. Jeremiah catches it, his eyes flicking momentarily downwards. He giggles again, but this time it’s less bitter and more like a nervous tick.

“I do,” Bruce says, leaning in closer. Jeremiah does the same, mirroring him perfectly. Jeremiah’s eyes flicker closed. “But please, let these people go.” Jeremiah’s eyes snap open again and he turns to the unfortunate couple with disdain on his face. 

“Yes, I can see how that would be a mood killer for you,” Jeremiah says dryly. “Shall we move to the drawing room?” It’s not a clear promise of their safety, but if he can distract Jeremiah long enough to get the detonator off him, then he’ll be able to stop him if he makes a move. Bruce nods. Jeremiah grins a little too wide and sets off. 

Bruce doesn’t want to know how Jeremiah knows his way to the drawing room. 

When they’re there, Bruce closes the door behind them. He tries not to look at the dark stain of Selina’s blood in the carpet. And now he’s preparing to kiss the man who did it. Jeremiah turns his back to Bruce and attempts to discreetly put a mint in his mouth. Bruce notices anyway, wonders absently if he always carries them, or if some insane part of his brain had prepared for this outcome  _ just in case  _ Bruce wanted to kiss him after being forced to relive his parents’ death. He supposes that makes his own plan mad too. 

“Bruce I – I want you to know that everything I’ve done was to bring us together,” Jeremiah says.

“I know,” Bruce replies. This is another truth. He knows with frightening clarity how much Jeremiah’s obsession with him had somehow taken over his entire being.

Bruce wonders when the obsession had started. Was it when he’d been sprayed, or later? One late night when they’d gotten tired of squinting at blueprints and sat beside each other drinking. Or perhaps it was when they’d first met and Jeremiah had followed Bruce into a likely death at Jerome’s hands. He remembers Jeremiah staring at him even as he shot Selina, unwilling to take his eyes off him. 

Jeremiah is watching him now across the room, waiting for Bruce to make the first move. So, Bruce walks forward -  _ don’t look down, don’t think of Selina _ \- to stand in front of him. He winds his hands into Jeremiah’s tie and pulls him down. Jeremiah makes a soft noise, arms winding around Bruce and resting lightly on his back. There’s no going back now. Bruce lets his eyes fall closed as they kiss. The prince of the city kissing the man who nearly destroyed it. Only in Gotham.

As soon as their lips touch, all of Jeremiah’s nervousness turns to desperation. His hands scramble on Bruce’s back for a moment before they settle on his hips and grip hard enough to bruise. He pulls Bruce against his body, the detonator in the pocket of Jeremiah’s waistcoat pressing between them. Bruce parts his lips and Jeremiah gasps. As he does, Bruce deepens the kiss, his mouth suddenly full of the taste of mint. Jeremiah makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a moan as Bruce pulls his hips back enough to trace his hands down from Jeremiah’s tie to the buttons of his waistcoat.

He undoes the top one and Jeremiah giggles into Bruce’s mouth. Jeremiah’s hands slide further down Bruce’s hips as he undoes the second and third button. If he were to grab the detonator now, he’s not sure he could pull away, and he doesn’t doubt that Jeremiah’s got at least one knife stashed on his person. He leans back, hands wrapping around Jeremiah’s hips inside his waistcoat for a moment. Jeremiah smiles at him, smudged red lipstick turning up at the corners of his mouth. Bruce licks his lips, feeling the waxy texture of it against his own face. 

Jeremiah stares into Bruce’s eyes, unblinking as he trails his hands back up Bruce’s sides. Despite himself Bruce finds himself relaxing at the warmth of hands on his body. Even before the bridges had fallen, physical contact outside of violence had become sparse. The occasional hug from Alfred, or a kiss from Selina. Pressing his hand on top of Jeremiah’s in the bunker when the other man had needed comfort. 

The Jeremiah of now brings his hands up to Bruce’s neck, and for a moment Bruce thinks he’s about to be strangled. But then Jeremiah undoes the top button on his collar, and then the next. Bruce reaches forwards and coaxes Jeremiah out of his waistcoat. Jeremiah shrugs out of it, glassy eyes boring into Bruce’s face. He seems to have forgotten the detonator and his plans entirely. As Bruce loosens Jeremiah’s tie, he sees his pale Adam’s apple bob. The waistcoat falls onto the carpet as Jeremiah turns his attention to shrugging Bruce out of his coat. 

When Jeremiah’s hands are full of coat, Bruce makes his move. 

He lunges forward, tackling Jeremiah to the ground. Jeremiah’s head thuds against the carpet, then he gasps as Bruce falls on top of him, knocking the wind out of him. Jeremiah’s arms, still wrapped in Bruce’s coat are trapped between them.

Jeremiah makes a noise that makes Bruce’s gut twist.

“What are you planning, Jeremiah?” He spits, carefully not thinking about the way Jeremiah bites at his own lip, eyes still fixed on Bruce  _ (always, always on Bruce) _ . “Besides killing those people and blowing up Wayne manor?” Jeremiah laughs again – Bruce can feel the movement from Jeremiah’s stomach underneath him – and rolls his eyes. 

“Really Bruce, must we talk about such morbid things? I was enjoying our previous… activities _ much more _ .” His eyes linger on Bruce’s lips, and Bruce suddenly feels the urge to punch him in the face.

“What are you planning?” He growls. Jeremiah laughs.

“It’s unimportant, Bruce. What matters is this.” He wrestles an arm out from between them and brings a gloved hand up to Bruce’s face. For a moment, Bruce considers batting it away. 

_ We can be connected in other ways. _

Bruce knows what Jeremiah wants. He remembers being dragged to the GCPD to face the man who was once his friend, who would only speak to Bruce Wayne. He places one of his own hands over Jeremiah’s and nuzzles into it. Jeremiah makes a noise so soft that it shouldn’t be coming from a murderer.

“You’re an intelligent man,” Bruce says. “I’m sure you had bigger plans than just this.” Jeremiah giggles again, stroking his gloved thumb against Bruce’s cheek in a way that really shouldn’t be so comforting. He brings his other hand to rest on Bruce’s thigh. Bruce doesn’t shake it off. 

“Really Bruce, you mustn’t underestimate yourself. This is the most important thing. But, reunification with the mainland hangs on by a thread and I intend to cut that thread for good.” As he speaks, Jeremiah’s hand slides further up Bruce’s thigh.  “I am creating the city that you need, Bruce. This is all for you.” His lips spread into a grin. White teeth on red lips on white skin. Bruce leans forward, staring into the eyes of the man who’d brought the city to the brink. 

“What did you do?” Jeremiah rolls his eyes. 

“Nothing yet, I assure you. But Ecco has her orders to go ahead with the plan even if I am, ah, otherwise compromised.” He huffs a laugh, his hand on Bruce’s thigh twitching again. The city is not safe, then. 

“Jeremiah. Please tell her to stop. For me,” he says. He leans back down and kisses the murderer again. Jeremiah gasps, then bites down hard enough on Bruce’s lip to draw blood.

“Now Bruce, I’ve already told you. You are the precise reason I  _ have _ to do this,” Jeremiah chides and Bruce is done playing nice. He pulls back (he shouldn’t have got so close to begin with) and wipes the blood from his lip. He clenches his hand into a fist and - 

A shrill noise startle them both. Jeremiah’s half-lidded eyes snap open and he gently pushes against Bruce’s leg so he can reach into his pocket. He jerks the radio out of his pocket with a livid expression on his face. As he presses a button and snaps  _ ‘What, Ecco? I’m in the middle of something?’ _ Bruce slowly leans back to grab the detonator. As soon as his hand is on the detonator, he slowly eases up from Jeremiah’s lap. 

“Yes. No. An alternative solution arose,” Jeremiah says into the transmitter as he watches Bruce stand, hand with the detonator tucked behind his back. “Kill them.” Bruce’s head snaps up. 

“Jeremiah,” Bruce says warningly. “I won’t forgive you. I will  _ never _ be with you if you keep hurting people.” A series of conflicted looks pass over Jeremiah’s face. Then he looks at Bruce again. Bruce offers Jeremiah his most serious scowl, then picks up his coat (carefully slipping the detonator into his pocket). He shrugs back into it and turns towards the door. Jeremiah sighs.

“Hold that thought, Ecco. Have Mr. Tetch keep Gordon and Ms. Thompkins subdued, but unharmed. No, you cannot  _ have a little fun _ with them.” Ecco must say something else, because Jeremiah grins wolfishly. “Oh, I  _ will _ .” And then he throws the transmitter carelessly to his side. It lands on the dark stain of Selina’s blood. Bruce looks at it, then back at the man who had stabbed her. The same man he’d just kissed. He feels a sharp stab of guilt, that’s only made worse by the fact he can’t tell if it’s for Selina, his oldest friend, or the man underneath the madness who he still cared for despite it all. 

Bruce takes a deep breath; he needs to focus on what’s happening now. He wonders how Jim had gotten himself and Lee captured, and then chooses not to wonder what Ecco, with a bullet rattling around in her skull, considered  _ a little fun _ . He also tries not to think about the quiet and watchful woman who’d worked in the bunker and only seemed to have a softness in her eye whenever she looked at Jeremiah. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

Jeremiah, at last, gets to his feet and saunters towards Bruce. He looks so genuinely delighted to be in Bruce’s presence that it hurts. 

“Jeremiah,” Bruce says warningly. “You have to stop whatever you’re planning. Please.” Jeremiah’s grin falters. He keeps walking closer, crowding into Bruce’s space again. 

“Why don’t you understand, Bruce? I’m doing this for you,” Jeremiah whispers, leaning in to kiss Bruce again. Bruce lets him, sighing into Jeremiah’s mouth.

He’s only kissing him because it’s necessary. 

He doesn’t know if he believes that anymore. 

He pulls back from the kiss and Jeremiah’s eyes flutter open as he says “Cancel whatever you’re planning.” Jeremiah rolls his eyes, then takes a step back. His eyebrows furrow unhappily. 

“If it means that we can stay together like this,” Jeremiah says, reaching out for Bruce’s hand (right hand - he’s ambidextrous, but still his dominant hand, a disadvantage if Jeremiah tries anything). “Then I will call Ecco off,” he finishes, threading their gloved hands together, purple next to black. Bruce strokes his thumb over Jeremiah’s knuckles.

“Thank you,” he says, and somehow he really does feel grateful for Jeremiah stopping the chaos before people could die. Even if he was the one who started it to begin with. Jeremiah smiles, his eyes darting around nervously before setting on the wall just behind Bruce. Like for whatever reason, he can’t quite bring himself to look at him (it doesn’t make sense; he’d looked at Bruce even as he’d shot Selina, looked at Bruce over his shoulder even as Tabitha Galavan had dragged him towards her with the intention of killing him). 

“Bruce, I need to you understand, I would do  _ anything _ for you,” Jeremiah says quietly. It’s only then that he meets Bruce’s eyes, his gaze unnerving in how  _ earnest _ it is. Bruce has no idea what to say. Because Jeremiah is insane, even if he doesn’t know it, and he thinks he’s speaking the honest truth. 

“That’s not true,” Bruce replies, his voice soft. “You wouldn’t leave me alone, even if I asked.” Jeremiah doesn’t say anything, but his grip on Bruce’s hand grows painfully tight and it’s all the answer Bruce needs. Maybe that good man is still buried in Jeremiah or maybe he was never good to begin with. Bruce doesn’t know which would be worse. But he understands him now - better than he should, perhaps - and he knows that he could manipulate Jeremiah into committing atrocities with a word. He’d already committed one in Bruce’s name. 

It terrifies Bruce, that power to destroy. Because underneath the veil of night and the long black coat that feels like a mantel he doesn’t understand yet, Bruce Wayne is still a teenager. And Jeremiah, who’s gripping onto his hand like it’s a lifeline and staring at him reverently, is a bomb waiting to blow.

And now Bruce has kissed him. Something in his gut tells him that this is only going to make things much, much more complicated. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's subtle but I tried to work in my headcanon that Bruce is pretty touch starved. He needs hugs.  
> Hmu on tumblr and talk to me about wayleska or literally anything Gotham related!! http://ryandaliass.tumblr.com/ or drop me a comment!! I really appreciate it!


End file.
